


The Courier

by Carolinian_Bog_Hermit



Series: Miscellaneous Vampire: The Masquerade Drabbles [3]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26810116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolinian_Bog_Hermit/pseuds/Carolinian_Bog_Hermit
Summary: Sabbat Templar LaCroix attempts to deal with the fallout of failing to kill his mark, a powerful Tremere named Yashiki. Takes place shortly after "Tonnerre." Brief cursing.
Series: Miscellaneous Vampire: The Masquerade Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949839
Kudos: 9





	The Courier

The courier outside of the Confession nightclub isn’t sure what she had expected when LaCroix had requested a meeting, but it certainly isn’t this. The crusader approaches her looking as if he’s just woken up from a decades-long torpor. His already bloodshot eyes are crimson red around his icy irises, and his gaunt face is marred by dark splotches and webs of darkened veins. He pulls his tattered coat around himself and leans against the wall.

“Cigarette, s'il vous plaît.”

With an arched eyebrow, she hands him a cigarette from her tin. He flinches as the flame spurts up from the lighter. He takes a long drag and exhales a gout of smoke with a shuddering breath.

“You look like shit,” the courier finally says.

“How very perceptive of you.”

She purses her lips to hide a mischievous smirk and lights up a cigarette for herself. “What happened?”

“I failed,” he mumbles. “That is what happened.” He flicks the end of his cigarette and watches as the embers fade and become lost in the wind. “I was rescued by the Tremere Regent, who then deceived my target into thinking that I had been finished off.” He glares at her and says with a venomous sneer, “Perhaps if I had been given sufficient intel, I would not have been so ill-prepared.”

She blinks at him. The barb doesn’t faze her at all. “You know as well as I do how difficult it is to find reliable information on Clan Tremere. The Ark of the Covenant is easier found.”

“…Perhaps.”

“…Did you try to shoot him?”

“Fuck you.”

There’s no hiding her smirk now. She chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh you poor old man. Guns are little use against our kind. Have you not learned?”

“Enough. Unlike you, madame, I have information which may be useful to the Sabbat.” He flicks his cigarette away and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “The man is powerful. At least a generation lower than I, although I was able to Dominate him for a moment. He is skilled in both the Path of Blood and the Lure of Flames. With his abilities he was able to create a wall of flame and…” He swallows. “Well, my blood, it was on fire. I believe he…boiled it. Tremere witchcraft….”

“Jesus. Did he get any information out of you?”

“No. He used the opportunity to flee. He knows neither my name nor my allegiance…only my face.”

“Your face looks a lot different than he did before he cooked your blood, I would say.”

LaCroix glares at her. 

“I am jesting, Crusader,” she sighs. “Well, it is good that you did not reveal us. Still, he knows your face. Playing dead is not enough. You will have to change your base of operations. There is a Sabbat safe-house on the outskirts of the city, a bunker hidden beneath an old two story building.”

“I know of it.” He exhales and closes his eyes. “I will await my penance there.”

She snuffs her cigarette against the heel of her shoe. “I doubt your punishment will be as severe as you imagine, Crusader.”

She gasps sharply as LaCroix grabs her by the shoulder and snarls at her with crazed, hate-filled eyes.

“What would you know, hmm? What would you care? You are a courier.”

She shoves him off with surprising force and moves to reach for her boot knife. Before she finds a reason to use it, LaCroix slumps back against the brick wall, exhausted by his own childish fit of pique.

“I am s…” He closes his eyes and swallows. He resembles a corpse someone has dressed and propped up against a wall, the courier thinks to herself. In many ways, he is.

“Be on your way, Courier,” he murmurs, defeated. “I have pressing matters I must attend to.”

She hesitates and considers offering the wisp of a man another cigarette, but with such heat lingering in his blood – figuratively and literally – she decides against it. 

“À bientôt, croisé,” says the courier with polite nod.

And quicker than the human eye can even begin to blink, she has vanished into thin air.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations: 
> 
> S'il vous plaît - Please. 
> 
> À bientôt, croisé. - See you soon, Crusader.


End file.
